Work Text:
The wind whispered around him.
Come on, Wilbur. You’ve done so much, you can do this. Staring down at the glittering water beneath them, sparkling in the moonlight, Wilbur took a few shaky breaths and laughed softly. “Always one for dramatics, eh?” He murmured, smiling softly. Stepping closer to the edge, he took another breath.
So many breaths. He’d been fighting so hard, so long. And for what? What point was there to anything around him? What point was there to him? There isn’t any. You’re nothing more than a waste of space. You’re a monster. You’re manipulative, and you’re weak. You’re pathetic and mean. You take and you take and you take and give nothing in return, and now you have to face it for the first time. Monster.
Sucking in a breath, he closed his eyes and then took another breath. He needed to pull out his phone, he needed to call someone and try to talk to them. Of course, it was more than just because he wanted to talk to someone. Talk to Techno and Tubbo and Tommy and Phil and—sniffing, he rubbed at his eyes with the back of his head. Come on, Wilbur. Suck it up. You need to say goodbye, are you just going to leave them with knowing nothing about you? Nothing about where you went? You’re just going to off yourself and do nothing more than that?
Taking a shuddery breath, he pulled out his phone, started scrolling through his contacts. Try and call all of them. Just say your goodbyes all at once, don’t tell them what’s going on. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. The small echo of his phone ringing bounced off of the buildings around him, over the water. Wilbur looked down at the waves, took everything in that he could.
He could barely see the stars, and the fog lingering around the banks didn’t quite hide the moonlight or the river, only the shore. It blocked out the streetlights. Now that he thought about it, it was pretty ironic. The last lights he would see, the little lights he used to look at in wonder when fog wreathed them…now they were shrouded from his sight. Like little droplets of hope scattering away into nothingness. They’d leave nothing behind. He would leave something, memories and thoughts and—
“Wilbur?” There was a sharp yawn in Tommy’s voice as he joined in. No mentioning what you’re about to do. No mentioning about the—about what you’re going to do. Not with minors. “Why are you calling?”
“Wilbur?” A few other voices—Phil, Tubbo, Techno, even Dream and Sanpap and George—chimed in. A sob nearly wracked his shoulders, and he barely forced it back down. Honestly, he hadn’t cried in the longest time. He didn’t remember the last time he had cried. Everything had just been…numb. For the longest time, he just couldn’t feel anything anymore. Once, it had scared him. Now, however…he was kind of glad for the numbness. That numbness meant that he could…he didn’t have to do…
“Wilbur, what’s wrong?” Phil asked softly, and Wilbur sniffed. Running a hand over his face, he took a breath. “Wilbur, is everything alright? Where are you, why are you calling?” There was a creaking and he suddenly knew that Phil knew he was no longer in the house. “Wilbur, where are you?”
“You’re not going to find me. It’s okay.”
“Wilbur, what are you doing?”
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
You have to do this. This is your fault, you hurt everyone. You’re going to hurt everyone and you’re hurting them right now by not doing anything. Taking a few shuddery breaths, Wilbur turned his head away from his phone and started scrubbing at his cheeks and eyes with his palms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He kept apologising, running along and along and along the same words in a constant loop a constant string of apologies and pained words. “I’m sorry, I can’t—Tommy, Tubbo, you need to get off this call you need to get off this call right now I can’t have you here I don’t want you to hear this please—” His chest heaved as he sucked in a few breaths. Beneath him, beneath the bridge—it was twenty meters, he wouldn’t make it if he fell. Or if he did, he’d be too hurt, too hurt to swim to shore. He’d freeze to death anyways.
“No, we’re not leaving.” Tommy said firmly, and Wilbur ran a hand into his hair and choked out a sob.
Shaking his head, he rasped, “Please. Tommy, Tubbo, I don’t—I don’t want you to hear this. Sapnap, you, too. I need you to get off—”
“Listen to me, Wilbur—” He could hear a car door slam close, hear some of the others talking about tracking his phone in the background. Despite that, Techno was the one who kept talking. His voice was firm and clear and strong, and Wilbur choked out a sob again and again. “We are not leaving you. No one is leaving you. Where are you?”
“I can’t have them here—”
“Wilbur, I don’t know what you’re going through but listen to us.” Somewhere in the distance, some car drove by. The gasket cracked and popped multiple times, snapping off like gunshots. His neck ached. Everything ached, really. Physically, everything else. He hurt. So, so much. “We love you, Wilbur. Do you understand that?”
“I-I know that—”
“No. Do you understand that? I don’t need you to hear it, I don’t need you to see it. I need you to believe it. I need you to understand it.” Techno repeated. Dimly, Wilbur could hear George giving quick directions, the car wheels speeding over the road as they drove. “Wilbur. Please say something.”
“Wilbur, tell me you’re still here.” Tubbo’s voice broke the silence, and Wilbur sniffed again.
“I’m here…” Trailing off, he choked out yet another sob. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t—I just can’t do this anymore. Tubbo, Tommy, please, I need you to go.”
“Promise us you won’t do anything reckless until we’re there.” Techno ordered. When Wilbur hesitated, he repeated, “Wilbur. Don’t—do—anything—reckless. Promise me.”
“I-I promise.”
“Tommy, Tubbo, we’ve got this. I want you to go in the kitchen, turn off your phones, and make some hot chocolate.” When Tommy started to protest, Techno very calmly said, “Everything’s going to be fine, Tommy. Go to the kitchen, turn off your phones, make some hot chocolate. Phil, George, Wilbur, and I are going to be coming home very soon. We’ll be fine.”
Tommy took a few shaky breaths, and then there was the sound of them hopping off of Discord. “Wilbur, stay with us. Stay right where you are. You promised.” Dream ordered, and for a brief moment Wilbur almost choked out a bitter laugh. Tears dripped down his face, icy and cold. The wind kicked up, and he held onto the railing as tightly as possible. He hadn’t yet moved over, moved back to actual safety. Not yet.
“Yeah, we need to do some work tomorrow. We’re going to screw around on the SMP, you understand?” Sapnap cracked, and Wilbur chuckled softly. He was at the edge. Of death, of the bridge, of everything. Dangling in a death-grip tango with gravity and the gap between life and death. His weight pulled him forwards, and he let himself dangle for a few moments. Closing his eyes, Wilbur let himself imagine that he was free-falling. Or maybe, instead, floating. Not falling, floating up. Floating away. “Wilbur.”
“Yeah, yeah, Sapnap.” Taking a shuddery breath, he opened his eyes and watched his tears fall away into the river. Suddenly, he wondered if there would be a day when someone decided to do the same thing. Not in real life, but on the server. Some silly war over something like discs or maybe something common like a stick. He wouldn’t be shocked. “Yeah, Sapnap. I know.”
He tilted forwards, forwards, forwards—
“Wilbur, you better be holding onto that fucking railing. Do you understand me?” Techno ordered, and Wilbur jolted. Turning, he pulled himself back just a little bit. Felt his feet get back on normal ground. Well, not quite normal ground. Steadier, he supposed.
Wheels screeched on the asphalt, and he turned his head to see Phil’s car skid to a halt on the road. The passenger side door opened before it even stopped and Techno sprinted over. Right behind him was Phil, then George stumbling out after them all still on the phone. “Wilbur!” Sobbing, Techno grabbed onto Wilbur’s jacket, wrapped his hands in his shirt, pulled him close. “You idiot. You absolute—idiot—”
Phil and George helped Techno pull Wilbur over the railing and back to safety. Clutching Wilbur in a tight hug, Phil sobbed into his shoulder. “Let’s get you home. Did you take anything?” Wilbur was slowly pulled towards the car, settled into the backseat with Phil. Gentle fingers wandered over the inside of Wilbur’s wrists, wandered over the raised scars and slashes there. “Wilbur? Did you take anything?”
“Like pills?” Phil nodded, and Techno and George talked softly in the front seat. Turning, George touched Wilbur’s knee, smiled at him with concern the whole time. “No, I didn’t—I didn’t take anything. I was just going to—I was just planning on jumping.”
“Okay.” Nodding, Phil took a breath and smiled softly at him. “It’s going to be okay, Wilbur. It’s going to be okay.”
Wilbur had the distinct feeling that Phil was saying that for himself, not just for Wilbur.
+++
Bonus Scene Because I Didn’t Want to End It There~
When they got back to the house, Dream pulled Wilbur into a hug and did not let him go.
“Whatever’s happened, whatever is happening, we’re here for you and we’re going to be here for you. Don’t forget that, okay?” Wilbur hugged him back, felt Dream squish him in that comforting way. “Wil—”
“I know, I know.” Tommy and Tubbo both appeared, poking their heads in from the kitchen, and immediately crossed the space in a few strides. Arms were thrown around his neck, around his waist. A head pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and he closed his eyes. “Hey.”
“Don’t—don’t do that. Ever again.” Tommy choked out, and Wilbur was dragged into the living room and onto the couch. Well, he was less dragged and more thrown onto the couch. Both Tommy and Tubbo laid down on him, and Sapnap carried over some mugs of hot chocolate. The others all arrived, settled down around him in a massive cuddle pile. A hand rubbed small circles on his back and he smiled weakly up at Phil.
“I’m okay, Phil. I promise.” Phil took his hand, frowned softly when he saw the blood coating Wilbur’s wrists. Taking a breath, Wilbur pulled Tubbo and Tommy closer. There was an expression on Phil’s face, a “we’re going to talk about this later”, but it wasn’t going to be something where Wilbur apologised. This wasn’t the time nor the place for that. No, this was going to be something different, and they all knew that.
For now, though, they all just needed to take the time to breathe.
They needed to take the time to breathe. Breathe, and that was it. Everything else would come later.
And everything else would, hopefully, start to look a little brighter.